I know, I know. I abandoned the online world for over a week without so much as a decent explanation or goodbye. I could say I was forced to take an emergency fly fishing trip to New Zealand or that I was kidnapped and forced to fly fish in Montana for a week, but wishful thinking could be construed as a fishing tale and I would never do such a thing on a fishing blog…..you know, spray paint reality with fanciful daydreams.
The boring version reads like this… I was moving homes. That is, moving homes during the coldest days on record in over 10 years in my little city. It was a miserable experience to put it in G-rated terms and I would not recommend moving in zero degree temps to anyone.
Why is it that I can go fishing during a nasty storm, freeze my arse off, subject my fingers and toes to frostbite and still have a great, albeit uncomfortable, time? Or why can I go hunting in sub-zero temps where I think my toes will never thaw out and I’m certain my eyeballs have frozen to the inside of my eyelids, but by gawd, I still sign up for another round each year because it was so enjoyable? Moving does not fall under the same umbrella of ignorable misery.
Now, usually when people move into a new house the family members might barter for certain furniture or fight over the biggest rooms. With this new home the huge debate hovers over a bonus located in the backyard. There are some people in my home, I shall call them – kids– who call said bonus a “swimming pool!!” while someone else –that would be me– has christened the blue hole that happens to have a slide and diving board, “the future cement trout pond of Rebecca Anne.”
My daughters are not amused by my stroke of brilliant fishing genius which is a bit of a road block to my swanky idea. I even mentioned that trout are basically harmless and surely the daughters and fish could co-splash in the same body of water, but that was met with typical eye rolls and exasperated sighs. I don’t get it……..teenagers these days totally lack imagination!
I may not win the debate about turning the swimming pool into a trout pond, but as a Mother I reserve the right to annoy and torment my daughters as often as possible. I see dry fly practice across the top water, nymph testing under the water and various other lure experiments happening in my backyard in the near future.
I may even put on my waders before I wander out back, just to ensure my daughters think I’m the wackiest fisherman they ever encountered~